No Other Choice – Film Review
Reviewed by Damien Straker on the the 15th of January 2026
Madman presents a film by Park Chan-wook
Screenplay by Park Chan-wook, Lee Kyoung-mi, Don McKellar, Lee Ja-hye based on The Ax by Donald Westlake
Produced by Park Chan-wook, Back Jisun, Michèle Ray-Gavras, and Alexandre Gavras
Starring Lee Byung-hun, Son Ye-jin, Park Hee-soon, Lee Sung-min, Yeom Hye-ran, and Cha Seung-won
Cinematography Kim Woo-hyung
Edited by Kim Sang-bum and Kim Ho-bin
Music by Jo Yeong-wook
Rating: M
Running Time: 139 minutes
Release Date: the 15th of January 2026
In this adaptation of Donald Westlake’s novel The Ax (1997), there is a complex thematic binary at play. South Korean director Park Chan-wook dramatises how far a person will go to protect their family. Yet through parody, he reveals how people convince themselves there is one solution. Actions trump consequences and morality.
As a character mentions throughout No Other Choice, it is not about the incident but how you react. We are aligned with the bleak choices of the film’s protagonist over a distant but agreeable moral viewpoint. The framework edges Choice closer to the complex moral ambiguity of a Scorsese crime drama or Dostoevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment (1866). You are empathising with a tortured soul who is also a violent fool. The dark humour counters the grisly passages, creating an effective tragic-comic view of class warfare and personal agency.
Lee Byung-hun (Squid Game) is excellent in the lead role of Yoo Man-su. Man-su works in a paper company and practices standing up to new American investors who are rapidly cutting staff. Meanwhile, he relishes his home life, including the love of his wife, Lee Mi-ri (Son Ye-jin), and their two children. Their young daughter, Ri-one (So Yul Choi), is neurodivergent and musically gifted. Yet she only plays the cello in their absence! Later, Man-su’s stepson is in trouble with the law and needs help.
Nonetheless, Man-su prides himself on gardening, enjoys dancing with his wife, and is obsessed with paper. However, when he is unexpectedly fired from his job, the family’s money and lifestyle diminishes. Man-su and Mi-ri try making cuts, including sending their two dogs away. The bleeding continues. They must sell the family home unless Man-su finds work. A creepy potential buyer has eyes for Mi-ri. The pressure sees Man-su crumble. Angry and dispirited, he plots to eliminate the candidates vying for a job in another paper company.
Park Chan-wook is an accomplished director who specialises in morally ambiguous psychological thrillers. Oldboy (2003) is a strong example of the bleak foundations permeating throughout his filmography. The same visual flair displayed throughout Oldboy and Stoker (2013) applies here albeit reined in. In the opening, a wide angle shot frames Man-su’s family hugging on the property. The broad angle shows the entirety of Man-su’s world exists in this moment with his family and garden. The shot also underlines the desperation of his actions.
Chan-wook juxtaposes the garden’s naturalism with belated images of a factory run almost entirely by robots. The contrasting images show people can achieve their goals but lose their humanity. Chan-wook’s sound choices are also critical to amplifying this theme. He overlays the factory images with the classical music played by Man-su’s daughter. The music infers how Man-su’s ambition has eclipsed his love of his family. The way the film develops its themes through this audio-vision is strong, but Chan-wook’s jittery editing style remains challenging.
Lee Byung Hun’s layered performance is responsible for effortless tonal shifts. We see how dispirited and anguished he is while unemployed. Byung-hun’s emotion here is critical to eliciting our sympathy. Once Man-su actions his violent plan, his performance register changes. Here Byung-hun proves highly adept at slapstick comedy. There are incredibly funny scenes where he stumbles and bumbles his way towards attempted murder.
One of the best scenes involves a wrestle for a weapon. Chan-wook heightens the soundtrack over dialogue. He trusts the actors’ hilarious physicality alone as they claw over and on top of each other. Another funny moment involves Man-su arriving late to his wife’s dance class. The way he struts across the dance floor to draw her attention is hilarious and self-deprecating. There is also a very nice, multi-layered performance by Son Ye-jin as Man-su’s wife. She turns a potentially superfluous role into a complex character. While disgusted by her husband, she becomes a sympathetic ally. The lead performances see the film narrowly walk between bleak psychology and social satire.
The only shortcoming compares to watching Man-su move on the dancefloor. You will need to keep in step with Park’s twitchy filmic style. The editing can be a little overzealous at times. However, there are some interesting flourishes too, such as when the camera dives headfirst into the bottom of a whiskey glass. The visuals aside, the film works as a bleak but funny satire of determination and single-mindedness. We are aligned with someone convinced there is no alternative to violence. The success of the shifting mood is attributable to Byung-hun’s performance. His emotional range impresses, especially with how sympathetic Man-su is before his soul darkens. He asks us, what are we willing to use as emotional leverage to succeed and best others?
Summary: The film works as a bleak but funny satire of determination and single-mindedness. We are aligned with someone convinced there is no alternative to violence.
3.5
Impressive
About the Author
Damien Straker is a freelance writer and film critic. He studied at the University of Sydney and graduated with an Arts Honours degree in Film Studies. He is a pop culture aficionado and enjoys talking about all films, 90s TV shows, ninjas and watching Rugby League. His favourite film directors are Alfonso Cuarón, Clint Eastwood and Alexander Payne.
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